


The cat's meow

by captainhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Sex, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, Hunter!Shiro, M/M, Shapeshifting, Witch!Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 10:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Shiro has hunted creatures of the night all his life. He never thought about falling in love and lust with one.





	The cat's meow

The first time Shiro heard of Red Cat was when he was ten years old, a year into his training as a witch hunter and a demon killer. His father had laid big hands on Shiro’s bony shoulders and told him that no matter how bad the regular spawns of hell are, witches are worse. They are humans who willingly delve into dark magics to become monsters themselves. They make deals with evils and cause havoc all over the land.

 

And Red Cat is the worst of them all. Most likely immortal, this yellow-eyed bastard has been seen through the ages, slaying cattle for his demonic rituals, snatching babies from their cribs, even seducing people, putting them under a spell to get them to do his bidding.

They say the Cat is an alien. 

They say the Cat is a demon and not a witch.

They say the Cat takes the forms of cats, flies, crows.

And he always, always wears a mask, always wears nothing but red, the red of drying blood.

Over the years, Shiro hunts with his father and mother. He hunts with his cousins. He slays demons, endures their claws, their teeth, their tentacles. He watches his cousins fall. He sees his mother come back from the hunt without his father.

All his life Shiro is told to never trust a witch’s words. That they are abominations, undeserving of mercy.

What is a guy supposed to think when he finds Red Cat crouched over a smoldering pile of ashes?

“Whoops,” Red Cat purrs. The eyeholes of his mask are two bottomless pools of darkness. 

“Witch,” Shiro says and raises his crossbow. “Prepare for I am a vanquisher of your kind.”

“Blah blah. “ Red Cat stands, as swiftly as his namesake. The masked head tilts. “I don't think I have seen you before. Big guy like you, scared of me?” because the witch is shorter and leaner than Shiro. An intriguing curl of black peeks from underneath Red Cat’s tightly woven hood. A hint of a grin under the mask’s shadow. A pair of long, shapely legs, clad in black. 

“I do not fear you, witch.” Shiro's jaw tightens. His frown deepens. “This arrow is coated with sliverroot. You know what that does to your ungodly powers. “

 

The Red Cat is still studying him, still with a smirk. That unseen gaze runs up and down Shiro's body, sends a satisfying tingling through Shiro's skin. “What if I told you my powers were godly, “ the witch whispers. The shadows surrounding him begin to stretch, slither across the witch’s limbs. His smile stretches, his nails extend into claws. “you smell lovely, hunter,” The red cat purrs. His tongue, when it flicks out, is sharp and glows a faint purple.

Shiro sees a flash of sharp white teeth. In front of his eyes, The Red Cat is shifting, changing. Still Shiro doesn’t fire. 

“What are you doing,” he whispers, strained. His hands don’t shake - a fact that he is proud of - but his voice does.

A crack of bone. A whisper of fur. The Red Cat reveals his huge teeth, the shadows slithering away from him to reveal a massive cat with red fur. 

“I do not wish to die, sweet hunter. None of us ever do. We shall see each other again, I presume.” He’s off before Shiro can utter a word in protest or a single prayer to his forest gods. The Cat’s huge paws make no sound as he jumps above Shiro to vanish into the tallest trees.

Not a single leaf falls after him.

*

Shiro’s never been one for dishonesty but this thing he keeps to himself. That he saw the Red Cat face to face, watched him transform and did nothing. Embarrassing. He’s an embarrassment to his legacy, to his family. 

 

So he hunts with more ferocity and tries to forget. More and more witches have gone into hiding lately or just left their lands entirely - good. They burn crops and steal children. Sometimes leave little changelings after them, pale fae-children with little fangs who lit fires when they cry. 

 

The world is better without witches. 

 

The Red Cat continues to haunt Shiro’s mind, all through the next few moons, leaves him tossing and turning in his cot and getting his hair utterly and hopefully tangled. He has his clan, certainly and the memory of his mentor but mostly he’s alone. So he’s left in peace to wonder and watch and listen to the woods. 

 

Is the Cat returning? Was he frightened by Shiro? It is more likely that the Cat merely thought Shiro was amusing. After all, no matter how long Shiro’s kind live, everybody knows the witches stop aging and never get sick. They change bodies at will, their soul blackened by each dark deed, never to die, left to rot. 

 

Shiro refuses to be intrigued.

 

The witches are bad and evil. The forests, the lands of Shiro’s friends and family are not theirs. Theirs is a dark existence that is only meant to be purged. 

 

This is what Shiro whispers in his mind through his days, through hot days when he hides in the trees from the sun and the chilly nights when the moon’s cold light shines on him. 

This is what Shiro whispers out loud to himself as he hears the wolves howl. 

 

He’s unprepared aside from his trusted crossbow, so he sneaks closer. He knows how to stay under the wind and leave no tracks behind. The forest whispers and murmurs all around him, conflicted, anxious. 

Shiro presses his hand to one of the ancient trees and feels how it shudders. 

 

The night is a dark and starless one. 

 

The wolves howl once more, yip yip yips like laughing at Shiro. It’s not the wolves Shiro is frightened of, but the witches. Wolf is the guardian of the forest, the animal of their favoured god Mystral - but it is also a form that some witches like to take.

 

The Red Cat turned into a cat though, a huge beast of infernal beauty. 

 

Shiro’s heart thuds. 

 

He wishes to see it again. Gods strike him down, but he wishes to see it again. His palm is clammy, the bow nearly slipping from his hands. He’s missing most of his arrows, his hair is in disarray and the loose ponytail is already working against him. But the wolves call and he goes. 

 

“Am I under a spell?” He asks the wind and the trees as he sees the wolves, magnificent animals sitting in a circle. 

 

In the middle stands a figure, only recognizable as the Red Cat by the mask that’s hanging from his fingers. He has his back turned. 

 

“A little one, hunter,” The Red Cat purrs, his voice loud enough to be heard over the shuffling of the wolves. Five pairs of golden eyes turn towards Shiro, staring at him unblinking. Shiro lifts his crossbow. 

 

“We are quite in the middle of something, dear hunter.” The Red Cat turns. The small fire blazing near them isn’t enough to illuminate his maskless face. “Put the bow down.” The witch steps closer and Shiro stays still. Something tugs at his hands. 

“No. I let you go once and I - “ he trails off when the Red Cat steps even closer, right into the line of fire, close enough that Shiro sees his face.

 

Oh. 

 

Oh no. 

 

Shiro’s heart begins to race harder. His palms go clammier. His mouth goes dry. Against his will, he puts down his bow, ignores the crackling of dry branches under his boots. 

 

The Red Cat has eyes as gleaming golden as a wolf’s, but without that gleam they look dark and beautiful as the night sky above. His face is beautiful enough to make the stars cry.

 

“Cat go your tongue?” His voice purrs, alight with mischievous joy. His eyes stay sad and dark and lonely. 

 

Shiro stutters. An intense warmth blooms inside of him: nothing to do with the fire still crackling behind the witch. 

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts out. 

 

One perfect eyebrow quirks at that. “From a monster to ‘you’re beautiful?’ The tactics you hunters employ never fail to amuse me. After all, it’s been you who has hunted me for such a long time now.” He steps closer.

 

Shiro stays still. He feels stupid, big, clumsy. The bow shakes in his hands. “You’ve put me under a spell,” he manages through gritted teeth. 

 

The witch’s eyes glimmer. His smile fades. “None of my spells work against you, sweet hunter.” 

 

He’s a monster. A monster. All monsters should be purged from this Earth. Shiro’s father growls in his head. “Is this your true form, witch?” Shiro takes a deep breath. “Meant to … entice me?” His blood alone seems to be set on fire. His heartbeats are thunderous. 

 

The witch smiles. “Big man, what you see is what truly is.” He’s close enough now to touch. His hand is lifted, fingers carefully brushing Shiro’s stubbled jaw. “Are you different than the rest of your kind? Are you a monster like they are? Or is the glow of your soul telling me the truth?” 

 

“What are you talking about?” Shiro shifts, a dry branch cracking in two under his boot. Wind rustles the trees. On his tongue is the taste of ash. In his nostrils is the trickle of a scent, emanating from the witch. 

 

“We’re not so different, you and I,” the witch whispers. “It is you who is beautiful to me, a monster from a land of monsters.” This close, his eyes are alight with the secrets of the universe. Shiro wishes to drown in him. 

 

Shiro swallows. He barely hears or registers the wolves getting up one by one to trot off, silently vanish into the dark woods. “I am not like you. I am human.” 

 

“Does it make you better than me then?” The witch keeps touching his jaw, brushing gentle, cool fingers over his stubble. Gods curse Shiro, but the heat inside of him blooms further, spreads to every inch of him, runs through his veins, fills up his heart. The witch is beautiful and terrifying and Shiro’s heart begins to thud with want. 

 

Want, that has probably been there since day one. 

 

“That’s not what I mean,” Shiro whispers. His arms move on their own, wrap around that slender waist. 

 

The witch’s eyes bleed darkness, he parts his full, beautiful lips to reveal his fangs. He lays his palms on Shiro’s chest, nails grown into claws. “I’ll eat you, sweet hunter.” He gets on his tip-toes and moves his mouth to Shiro’s ear. “I’ll eat you alive.” His voice lowers into a hiss, his claws dig into Shiro’s leather armour. It yields. 

 

“I don’t think you will.” Shiro inhales deep. The witch smells like the forest, like the cracking fire. The witch’s skin burns hot, way hotter than Shiro’s own. Shiro tightens his grip around the witch’s waist. “You smell good.” 

The witch sighs, something wet brushing against Shiro’s earlobe. “You are such a fool. Ever since I saw you that first time, I -” He pulls back from the embrace, enough to meet Shiro’s calm grey gaze. The fangs are hidden beneath a pouting mouth, two perfect dark tears have formed thin rivers on pale cheeks. 

 

“I was human once, you know. But now I am an old and tired monster.” 

 

“You’re not - I don’t think you are a monster.” Shiro’s jaw is tight. All of him is warm. The quivers have ceased, his crossbow lays forgotten by his feet. Doubt is slowly being replaced by the profound sorrow in the witch’s space-dark eyes.

 

“Hmm,” is all the witch says before he slips from Shiro’s arms. He changes, right in front of Shiro’s eyes, into shadows and starlight, leaving his glowing yellow eyes blinking like twin moons. “I was called Keith once, sweet hunter,” his voice whispers, caresses Shiro’s cheek. “That is the secret I will give to you.” He grows in shape and size, as if the night itself had begun to expand from the space the witch was standing.

 

Shiro’s arms are empty. “I wouldn’t mind if you ate me,” he tells the night.

 

The witch laughs. He’s gone when Shiro blinks. 

 

*

The next night and the night after that, Shiro’s dreams are full of hot, hot skin and galaxy-eyes.

 

*

 

Wandering into the woods without the crossbow, without even a tiniest knife is a fool’s errand. But the witch’s - no, Keith’s - eyes have been seared into Shiro’s heart. Perhaps it is a spell. Perhaps it is foolish infatuation, unlike anything Shiro has ever felt, even for the bethrothed that he used to have - he had broken that man’s heart and that man had broken his. 

 

Shiro’s insides bloom with flowers of warmth as he approaches the clearing he previously saw Keith in. The remnants of the fire are still there, charred ashes all wrong in the middle of deep, lush green. Not even the smell remains. The wind tickles Shiro’s skin, lifts up the loose tunic he’s wearing, his jacket loosely tied over his overheated chest.

 

He knows better than this. This is the witch’s territory, the territory of those wolves with their eyes like Keith’s. Here he is, defenseless except for his right arm: the one made of wood and intricate metal, clumsier than his left one, but useful in a fight. It’s the only magic thing Shiro doesn’t fear.

 

The woods are dark and deep around him, the evening expanding into night, the moon staring at him from the starry sky. The stars blink at him, curiously watching this small mortal man.

 

“Keith?” His own voice is small in his ears. He’s not cold. The warmth in him expands. “I- I need to see you.” 

 

He’s jolted out of his infatuated spell by the thumping of large feet, by the swishing of trees and branches. 

 

“Shiro,” whispers the wind. 

 

The Red Cat makes no sound as he lands on the clearing as a monstrous cat. His teeth, each one as long as Shiro’s forearm, glimmer. 

 

Shiro licks his dry lips. He reveals his palms. “I am unarmed.” His heart thuds. His cheeks flush. Jaw tingles, like a flesh memory of Keith’s touches. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

 

The Cat stares at him, his eyes brighter than the moon above. His teeth flash. He sits down, sweetly like a normal housecat: except a housecat who’s larger than any house, with teeth that could chomp Shiro to pieces in a heartbeat. A housecat with ancient, intelligent eyes.

 

The corner of Shiro’s mouth twitches. 

 

The Cat tilts his head. 

 

“You remind me of the cat I had when I was a child,” Shiro says. He steps closer, into the clearing and to the light of the moon. “It had ginger fur like yours, gorgeous yellow eyes like yours. Of course, it was just a cat. You are more.” 

 

A monster. The Cat doesn’t move. The voice comes from Shiro’s head.

 

Shiro shakes his head. “For some reason I cannot entertain the idea that you have enchanted me. Perhaps to gather knowledge of my peers or my community - but I cannot stay mad at you. You are beautiful, Keith.” 

 

The Cat leans his monstrous head and carefully Shiro lays a palm to soft, warm fur. A pleased purr echoes. His large tongue scrapes against Shiro’s palm. Shiro startles. Even more as the fur starts receding, the Cat starts changing his shape smaller, more slender. Shiro’s palm is now pressed against a gorgeously muscled chest, only hidden away by a loose tunic like Shiro’s. 

 

Keith merely looks like a boy - the boy he once must have been - now. 

 

“I think you should kiss me,” is all he says, his palm placed on top of Shiro’s. 

 

“K-kiss?” Shiro’s tongue is stuck in his mouth. He rubs the sliver of pale skin with his thumb. “You are certain? We are mortal enemies, you and I.” 

 

Keith smiles. “I am certain.” But he doesn’t wait for Shiro, he cups Shiro’s face, steps closer and tugs him forcefully down for a kiss. 

 

The whispers of the forest turn quiet, the wind means nothing in the face of this heat: :Keith’s lips are burning hot, his body even hotter as he presses it tight against Shiro. 

 

Shiro’s arms slide with ease around Keith’s slim waist. He’s bad at this, more used to doing violence with his hands than making love. Keith’s lips slide against his with confidence the witch’s arms wrapping around his neck. 

 

The night wraps itself around them, protecting them from the dark and the other monsters lurking. The kisses burn like fire. Keith’s tongue, long and sharp, slips between Shiro’s teeth to tease, to provoke. Shiro grunts, slides his palm lower to cup Keith’s ass. It’s perfectly round and soft to the touch, the thin trousers doing nothing to hide it. 

 

The kiss breaks, they both draw breath but Shiro dives into another kiss immediately, murmuring a soft no. Keith laughs against his lips, smelling like death and danger but also like the forest, something musky and enthralling. 

 

“You’re burning up, witch-hunter,” Keith whispers, his hands quick to loosen Shiro’s jacket and dive beneath his tunic. Keith shifts against him, rubs himself against Shiro, swallows down Shiro’s hitch of breath. “Have you been longing for me this much?” Keith’s clever fingers find Shiro’s chest and cup his pecs, tweak his nipples until Shiro jolts. 

 

“Yes.” He’s out of breath, his lips tingling. He squeezes Keith’s ass again and then moves, wraps his arms around Keith’s thighs and lifts him. 

 

“Wow.” Keith chuckles, his mouth so close to Shiro’s again, his thighs warm and inviting around Shiro’s waist. 

 

Shiro grunts as he lays Keith down on the grass, crushing innocent white flowers as he goes. He devours Keith’s mouth again, endures the tickling of Keith’s sharp tongue. Keith’s legs stay locked around his waist and entranced, Shiro runs his hands up and down them, feeling the slender muscles quiver. 

 

Divesting Keith of his tunic goes easy: the silky fabric merely turns to ash, to be swept away by Shiro’s increasingly hungry kisses and pawing hands. 

 

“Magic,” Keith whispers and then his thighs squeeze Shiro harder - only to flip their positions, slamming Shiro on his back to the ground. 

“Oh,” is all Shiro manages before he’s being kissed again, his jacket left in a puddle under him, his tunic rucked up to his armpits. Shiro tries to fight it off the old-fashioned way but gets stuck, flushes deep when the night echoes with Keith’s laugh. 

 

“My,” Keith purrs as he tugs Shiro’s tunic up his arms to his wrists and lets it stay there. Shiro tugs it off all the way, bares all of his scars and thick muscle for Keith. His breath hitches, quickens. His groin throbs, his trousers tented. 

 

Keith’s eyes glow. “My,” he says again. “I think I need to have a taste of you. Touch my hair if you want, I rather like your hands.” 

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro whispers, helpless. He tugs the laces of his trousers open, spreads his thighs when Keith shifts between them, nimble and graceful. 

“You don’t have to flatter to get me here.” Keith licks his lips and gently nudges Shiro’s hand off.

 

Keith’s hands are soft and warm as he tugs out Shiro’s cock: admires out loud the length and thickness of it, slides a curious finger up the throbbing vein down the side. 

 

“Keith,” Shiro pleads, mouth opening in yet another gasp when Keith swallows all of his cock down in one go, slides back up with a gasp of his own. 

“Delicious,” Keith murmurs and strokes Shiro’s thigh. “You are delicious, witch hunter.” Too late Shiro remembers Keith’s fangs, he gets on his elbows but shakes, shivers when Keith’s dexterous, inhumanly long tongue wraps around his cock. Keith’s mouth is hot and wet, his gag reflex apparently non-existent.

 

“By the gods,” Shiro stutters and flops back down. His hips jolt at the little flash of electricity, at the way Keith keeps gulping down his cock between those dangerous teeth. “W-what was that?” Shiro struggles to get on his elbows again and glances down to Keith: what a dangerous sight. Intriguing yellow eyes glow faintly between Shiro’s bare, scarred thighs, Keith’s plump limps pink and aching and stretched around his cock. 

 

Wordlessly Keith laps at his pre-cum and lifts his hand. Blue little lightnings dance around his fingers.   
  


Shiro blushes deeply and yields. 

 

The lightning shizzles on his skin, close to burning him, but instead it seems to make his cock swell even more. He closes his eyes and listens to the obscene sounds Keith makes: feels with every fiber of his being how skillfully Keith sucks him, those devilish fingers dancing on Shiro’s quivering inner thighs. Then it’s just one hand but Shiro has no time to wonder where the other one goes before Keith is pulling back from his aching cock.

 

“K-Keith, hey - “ Shiro blinks hard, every part of him throbbing. 

 

“Hey yourself,” Keith whispers and straddles Shiro, slides down on his cock with terrifying ease. 

 

Shiro moans, teetering dangerously close on the edge of a climax. Keith’s insides clamp down hard on his cock, Keith’s nails dig into his pecs, slide further up until Keith’s fingers are gently wrapped around his neck. 

“Don’t come,” Keith murmurs and playfully bites his earlobe. “Not until I’ve gotten my fill.” He places his palms again on Shiro’s chest and begins to move. 

 

The curses Shiro slips out would make the gods themselves blush. 

 

His hands clamp down on Keith’s hips, his boots digging into the ground. Once more he jolts when Keith’s magic makes his skin quiver. Keith is so warm and tight around his cock

“Sweet hunter,” Keith purrs, no, growls. 

When Shiro manages to crack an eye open, the almost human form has shifted: Keith’s pale skin has a purple hue to it, two fluffy ears peeking from the wind-swept black hair, something that can only be a tail brushing Shiro’s thighs. 

 

Keith’s nails have turned into claws, but still he lets out whimpers, tells Shiro how good his cock feels, filling every inch of Keith. 

 

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro manages again, watches how the glow of those golden eyes increases. 

 

Keith reveals two rows of needle-sharp teeth. “So you keep saying,” he whispers, as softly as the wind and rolls his hips, fucks himself on Shiro’s cock with more intensity. His cock is bigger now, purple in colour, barbed. Shiro’s mouth is wet from just looking at it. 

 

Keith’s chest is heaving, his nipples rock-hard. 

 

You’re not a monster. Shiro’s grip on Keith’s waist is tight as he shifts his hips, meets every rock and sway of his Keith’s hips with an upwards thrust of his own. You’re not. I am the one who’s been a monster. 

 

“You’re tight,” Shiro growls, dragging his hands down Keith’s thighs, those delicious powerful thighs. He wants to dig his teeth into the soft flesh. “I can’t -” 

 

Keith leans down and licks into his mouth. “You can, sweet, delicious human.” He’s purring now, the sound vibrating against Shiro’s sweaty, overheated skin. “You can give me all that you can give. Your cum-” Keith’s hips slam down, he moans loudly as Shiro’s cock strikes gold inside of him. “Your heart.” 

 

Their lips meet in a heated kiss, only broken by moans and the obscene slap of skin against skin. Shiro grabs a handful of plump ass and fucks into his witchy lover, holds the hot body against himself through what feels like an eternity drenched in pleasure.

 

The wind picks up and howls as it strikes through the trees and the flowers. A crow sits on a nearby tree and croaks. 

 

The flowers and grass are crushed under Shiro’s back, stuck to his sweaty skin as he finally spills into Keith, his cock throbbing and shooting every single drop he has to give into this willing, powerful man. 

 

Keith mewls, his hips continuing to rock through Shiro’s orgasm. He’s almost sweet like this: his golden eyes hazy with pleasure, his body arching on top until he’s spilling too: shooting stripes of faint purple on Shiro’s tightening abs. Keith whispers a few  words as his breathing evens out, something Shiro can’t decipher. 

 

“Keith?” 

 

Keith’s eyes slip open, his skin sliding back to pale, those big, fluffy ears receding until it’s just him and this human face. He seems to glow: not just his eyes, but his entire body. He smiles, presses a finger to Shiro’s lips. 

“Shush. Do not worry for me.” He hisses as he gets up again, Shiro’s cock flopping out of him. Keith doesn’t go far, instead stretches right next to Shiro. “Your cum  feels good in me.” 

 

Shiro flushes. “Do you have to talk like that?” 

 

Keith flicks his nipple. “Yes.” He smiles as he shifts closer, kisses Shiro’s shoulder, then his mouth. “Because it does. You fucked me so good, sweet hunter.” He lays on Shiro, tucks his head against Shiro’s chin. 

 

Shiro wraps his arm around Keith and squeezes tight. Shiro closes his eyes and breathes deep. The scent of the forest tickles his nose. For a moment he just breathes, feels the ache in his spent cock, the drying come on his stomach. 

 

“Hey, Keith.” 

 

A deep, soft purr is his answer.

 

Shiro swallows. “Are you - “ Shiro goes quiet. Phrasing the question right is the key, this man is still his enemy, even as Keith feels languid and warm in his arms. 

 

Keith’s glowing eyes blink at him. 

 

Shiro’s cheeks warm. “Are you truly immortal?” He tangles his fingers in Keith’s hair. “That’s-  that’s what they’ve all been saying. I heard of you the first time when I was ten. And you still look the same.” When no answer comes, Shiro lifts his head off the grass. 

 

Keith is smiling. “What do you think, lover? Am I immortal? Did the devils give me undying life and magic powers in order for me to become their servant?” His smile turns into a smirk. He lifts himself up, straddles Shiro tighter, his palms on Shiro’s chest. 

 

Shiro’s heart races. “Uh -” 

“Of course not. I die like all living beings die. Of course I don’t disappear. I just - change. What you humans call death is a transformation. Of course my lifespan is a lot longer than a human’s, but I am still mortal.” Keith begins to drag circles on Shiro’s chest, tilts his head in a way that’s devastating. “I was born with my powers, mister hunter. I have been hunted all my life because of them. By both worlds.” 

 

“Both worlds?” Shiro grabs Keith’s wrists and gently tugs to get him to lay back down. 

Keith sighs, nuzzles against Shiro’s chest. “I am a half-breed, Shiro. My mother was a star witch. My father was a human. For witches, I am a proof of sin. A stain in their purebloodedness. For humans, I am just an abomination.” He whispers all of this against Shiro’s skin, lips hot, tongue wet. His eyes still glow golden, his cat-like irises flashing up at Shiro. 

“You are not an abomination,” Shiro whispers. He tugs Keith up, kisses him once, twice. “You are beautiful.”

“And you are a flatterer, you foolish little human,” Keith hums. “Although not all of you is little.” He gives a meaningful little rock of his hips, making Shiro groan. 

 

“Shush.” 

 

“Do not feel guilty of this, sweet hunter,” Keith whispers as he lays back down. “If there is a spell, like I said… it has entranced us both.” 

 

The wind hums in the trees around them, like the forest itself sighing in exaperation and amusement. 

 

Shiro holds his little witch tighter. If Keith is a monster, then so is Shiro. 


End file.
